No Glasses, Still No Hunk (7)
“H-here’s the cola. Got the 1+1 deal from the convenience store two minutes from the dojo.”
“Whoa! Now you’re getting it.”
“Thanks, Ha-min. Sit down already. Let’s eat together.”
“N-no, it’s fine. I already ate dinner at school.”
Do Ha-min, who’d bought cola from the convenience store just two minutes away, set it on the table. I grabbed the guy who was trying to quietly slip away and plunked him down in a chair.
“Just sit. What is this, Sweden? You bought the cola, so you gotta share the responsibility.”
“I’m really fine…”
“Hey, you gotta eat at least as much as the nosebleed you got from staring at my tits. Won’t that tide you over through evening study hall?”
“Yeah, Ha-min. Me and Do-young can’t polish off this much anyway. Just have a slice or two before you go.”
“O-okay… Then I’ll gratefully dig in.”
I hadn’t meant for it to happen at all, but this turned into our first family meal with Do Ha-min at my house. With my parents, no less.
“Alright, let’s see how it tastes—”
“Aaaah—!”
“W-what? What’s wrong?”
“What happened?”
“…The explanation-spewing glasses nerd from the ColaBoh goods came out.”
“…”
Never ordering PapaKatsu Pizza again.
…
“What? You’re gonna teach Ha-min kendo?”
“Yeah. There’s no class in the evenings, so just a quick session then.”
Over dinner, I told Dad about my promise to teach Do Ha-min kendo.
“It’s not you teaching him officially, just me doing it on the side, so no need to bother with student registration, right?”
“Sure, but… you serious? This isn’t just a whim after whacking the training dummy once—you’re actually gonna teach him kendo?”
Dad’s reaction to me bringing Do Ha-min into the dojo was pretty shocked. He was so stunned he didn’t even notice the pizza cheese slipping off his slice and dripping down.
I quickly snatched up the fallen cheese and the slice it came from.
“What’s with that reaction? Shocked I’m doing kendo? Or shocked I’m teaching someone?”
“Both… big time.”
“Kinda hurts my feelings, but too late. Already got the tuition.”
“You took money? When the hell did that happen?”
“You’re drinking it right now, Dad.”
“What?”
Dad stared in bewilderment at the half-drunk cola in his cup. One sip down his throat, and he was basically in on the plan.
“One cola per lesson. That settles it.”
“Well, if you’re satisfied with that, fine. But you were the one who said never to even mention starting kendo again. What changed?”
“He got pissed when I called him a weakling. So I’m teaching him.”
Dad’s gaze shifted from me to Do Ha-min.
“You really wanna learn from Do-young, Ha-min?”
“I-I came here because I need it. If you allow it, Master, I’d… like to give it a try.”
“I don’t mind at all. Hell, I’m grateful.”
Dad wiped the pizza sauce and grease off with a napkin, then extended his right hand to Do Ha-min with a smile, like he wanted a handshake.
The guy hesitated a bit, wiped his hands, then carefully took Dad’s hand.
“Thanks, Ha-min. Don’t know your reasons, but thanks to you, my daughter’s getting back into kendo. Your mom’ll be thrilled when she hears.”
“N-no, I’m the one who should… please take care of me.”
“First time with kendo? No uniform or gear, right? I’ll grab some from the storage room.”
“You deaf, Dad? Hey, Ban Do-che?”
“Got a spare uniform in your size. Be right back!”
“U-um, Master—”
“You two keep eating. I’ll go myself!”
Dad, all hyped up, dropped his pizza mid-bite and headed down to the storage under the dojo. He must’ve been over the moon about me teaching Do Ha-min.
Ban Do-young, you little shit. Must’ve given your parents hell with kendo.
The first time I picked up a bokken, my body moved on its own like it remembered. So yeah, she had real talent.
“You could finish eating and still not be late. Dad’s way too serious about this kendo thing.”
“He’s that excited. His daughter starting kendo again after all this time.”
“…Hmph. That much?”
“Looked like he’d been hoping you’d pick it back up. Any reason you quit?”
“Dunno?”
“Huh?”
I didn’t know Ban Do-young’s backstory. That stuff comes way later in the original story anyway.
The traces of her kendo past were a hidden uniform and bokken in the closet, plus a bunch of trophies and medals from tournaments.
Looking back, most awards were from elementary school. The grades listed next to her name showed when she quit—right after entering middle school, judging by the gap.
No wonder the uniform felt a bit small.
“You don’t know why you quit… then what’s making you start again?”
“Hm…”
Seeing the worried look in Do Ha-min’s eyes next to me, I couldn’t help but snicker.
“Pfft, probably ‘cause of you?”
Yeah, gotta be you. The guy who could make the main heroine—who quit kendo—pick it up again? Who else but this world’s protagonist?
I couldn’t think of anyone.
“Ha-min. Here, take this. Might be a bit big, but cinch the waist tight and it’ll fit okay.”
Meanwhile, Dad had fetched a navy-blue uniform from storage for Do Ha-min. Thanks to last weekend’s deep clean, it was pristine, straight out of the plastic.
“Th-thank you. I don’t have money for it right now, but next week—”
“No worries, no charge. It was just gathering dust. Here’s a shopping bag to carry it easy.”
“Ooh, newbie-friendly policy. No wonder the apartment aunties love this place.”
“Really, thank you, Master.”
“Thank you. For getting Do-young to pick up the bokken again.”
“Alright, dinner’s done. Time to pay today’s tuition? Change and come out.”
We wrapped up the light meal, cleared the table, and Do Ha-min changed into the uniform Dad gave him before standing in the center of the dojo.
“What’s that? Steal Mom’s skirt? Kekeke.”
“…”
The top fit okay, but yeah, it was a size up, so the hem dragged a bit on the floor, covering his feet. One wrong step and he’d trip over it.
“W-what… still growing, right? Keep training and you’ll shoot up. Haha!”
“H-hope so.”
A taller Do Ha-min. Hard to picture.
“Anyway, both of you be careful. Got it? Especially you, Ban Do-young.”
“Why just me?”
He might’ve dreamed of his kid doing kendo again, but never imagined her teaching a friend.
Dad seemed extra wary of Ban Do-young teaching someone.
“The better you are, the higher your expectations when teaching. Don’t get pissed if Ha-min can’t keep up and start swinging the bokken wild.”
“Ehh, can’t I? Doesn’t pressure make you improve faster? Thought that’s how you taught, smacking my head with yours.”
“Teach like that and we get complaints, you brat.”
Dad had a point. Being good at something doesn’t mean you’re good at teaching it. Not every star player makes a star coach.
“Especially careful with glasses-wearers. Always said that. They get hurt worse. Keep it in mind.”
“Got it, so our Master can watch from the office. Don’t wanna waste precious evening time.”
“…Yeah. You’ll handle it fine. I’d just get in the way, so I’ll be in the office. Call if anything.”
“Yup. Do Ha-min, grab a bokken. Time for your kendo lesson.”
“Uh, yeah. Please go easy.”
First day, not much time. Spent most of it on chit-chat and stuff. Twenty minutes till evening study hall.
Could start properly next week, but since I took tuition today, might as well give a teaser.
“Copy my stance. No need for perfect theory, just match the feel roughly.”
‘Cause I don’t know the theory either. Just moving by muscle memory.
“Legs about shoulder-width, back foot slightly raised. Move by pushing forward slow with the front foot.”
“Like… this?”
I faced him like we were sparring and took stance. Even to my rusty eyes, Do Ha-min’s form was a mess.
“Tsk. Something’s off.”
Foot angle was bad, but the movement looked unstable overall. Unfamiliar stance played a part, but more than that…
He didn’t seem confident he was even moving forward right.
“That damn glasses.”
There they were—the taped-up, crooked frames slipping off.
Fine for sitting and studying, but full-body movement? Loose legs would shake his vision quick.
Plus, trying to fix the wobbly glasses by head movement messed his stance, lost balance.
“Can’t watch this.”
“Huh…? What.”
“Hey, model student. Know the most important thing in kendo?”
“…What?”
“Not taking your eyes off the opponent.”
-Whoosh!
I lightly swung up, flicking off his glasses. They flew, hit the ceiling with a thunk, and crashed to the floor.
Bridge snapped—total write-off.
“W-what the hell! That was my fixed spare!”
“Look.”
I bolted to the office and yelled.
“Dad! Broke Do Ha-min’s glasses practicing! Gotta replace ‘em!”
“Wh-what…?”
“See? That’s what happens when you look away.”
“You, you…”
“Guess we’re going shopping for new glasses together now?”
Got an excuse to meet this weekend.